


A Cure for Wellness

by FifthRepublic



Category: Ultimate Spider-Man (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mental Institution, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Angst, Depression, Hallucinations, M/M, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-18
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-31 06:30:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12126561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FifthRepublic/pseuds/FifthRepublic
Summary: Peter utterly loathes himself for repeatedly breaking the number one rule of his job: Do not get emotionally involved with the patient.---A mental asylum AU in which Peter is a psychiatrist and Sam is a patient.





	A Cure for Wellness

“I am a human rocket!”

 

Peter looks up from the files on his desk to see an orderly leading the next patient by the arm into his office. The young man appears excitable, which is the norm that Peter has gotten used to from their previous sessions.

 

“Good afternoon to you too, Mr. Alexander.” The psychiatrist takes off his reading glasses, folding his hands and gazing observantly at his subject being seated in front of his desk.

 

“That's Nova to you, Web Head!" the patient shouts, pointing his finger accusingly at Peter. The orderly quickly places a restraining hand on his shoulder. Though Sam’s behaviour is not violent enough to warrant him being placed in a straightjacket, he has nevertheless proven himself to be erratic on occasion.

 

“I see you’re making good progress, Sam,” Peter continues in a neutral voice without missing a beat, still continuing his casual observation of the other. Sam’s green eyes are darting around the room and he is squirming restlessly, as though they were surrounded by an audience.

 

“Yeah… took me awhile getting used to being back on Earth,” he mutters quietly, turning his gaze to his feet. In spite of himself, Peter gives a small chuckle at the unintended double meaning of the statement.

 

“How have you been feeling lately? Our last appointment was two weeks ago. Have you had any… unpleasant incidents since then?”

 

“Nah, all’s good. Rocket said the Guardians took care of Titus and the Chitauri so we should all be safe.” The Hispanic’s eyes finally focus on Peter and he gives a wide grin. Peter can’t help but give his own matching smile.

 

“I’m sure no alien will ever set foot on this planet,” Peter smirks and Sam smirks right back, though probably not with the same understanding.

 

“You can count on Nova!” he exclaims enthusiastically and Peter hates himself a little for having to temper the other’s exuberance. But he still has a job to do, which is to make sure that Sam gets better.

 

“You have been taking your medication?”

 

“Oh, umm… I must have dropped them while fighting Electro,” Sam laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his head. “Do I really have to take them?”

 

“Hey now, you don’t want to turn into a goblin again, do you?” Though Peter is not supposed to indulge his patient’s hallucinations, being a clinical psychiatrist; he cannot help but make references to Sam’s fantasies in order to ensure his cooperation. And maybe because he is more than a little interested in them.

 

“No sir.”

 

“Good. And please don’t fight Electro anymore. Hospital Director Fury will be furious if you break any more electrical appliances.” Both laugh at the pun, and Peter is pleasantly surprised to find that Sam is lucid enough to catch it.

 

“You tell Fury that I’m just doing my job.” Sam crosses his arms defiantly and stares the doctor down with an arrogant smirk. Peter merely sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose, though he is unable to fully suppress his smile.

 

“Just take your medication and everything will be fine, okay?” Peter makes a mental note to up the dosage in case Sam loses some of it again. The pills already seem to be having an effect, seeing as how Sam did not have any new intergalactic adventures to talk about.

 

“If you say so,” Sam shrugs. “So, when’s our next training session?”

 

“Next month. But I’ll try to move it earlier. Maybe in about fifteen days instead.”

 

“Great! Can’t wait to see you again!” Sam’s infectious grin only serves to further agitate the butterflies in Peter’s stomach. “You’re an amazing Spiderman, Pete.”

 

And in spite of the incoherence of his patient’s statement, Peter can’t stop his heart from leaping at the compliment.

 

* * *

 

 

A silent stream of self-directed curses leaves Peter’s mouth for the next five minutes after the appointment as he clutches his face in his hands. He utterly loathes himself for repeatedly breaking the number one rule of his job: **Do not get emotionally involved with the patient.**

 

But Sam’s exuberance is contagious and his determination, though focused on an imaginary world of extra-terrestrial villains, is admirable. And not to mention, his beautifully charming smile. Those lively forest-green eyes that light up whenever he recounts his space adventures. Peter can’t help but stare rather inappropriately at his patient whenever the latter begins recounting another made-up anecdote from his interstellar hallucinations. He knows that he is probably more interested in his patient than is strictly necessary.

 

At first, Peter thought it was pity. According to the files, Sam Alexander had had a difficult childhood. His alcoholic and abusive father abandoned the family when he was seven years old, leaving them to fend for themselves with an unpaid mortgage and other debts. Taking up part time jobs to help keep his mother and sister afloat and constantly being bullied in school only made things harder as he grew up, with the psychological scars of domestic abuse barely fading. Then when he was fifteen, what was left of his family died in a tragic accident; the same one which left Sam with a concussion and some permanent brain damage. With years of rejection, clinical depression and possible schizophrenia all on his record, Peter expected to be dealing with another basket case from the mental asylum in which he had been working for about two years.

 

But after the second appointment, Peter started to realise that Sam was completely not what he had expected. Though he had every reason to be bitter at how miserable his life was and how cruel the universe had been to him, Sam was always bright and optimistic and excited about everything. Amidst all the gloom that surrounded his workplace, Peter could not help but be drawn to this rare spot of sunshine. The only problem was that Sam’s bubbly attitude was based in a fantasy world of space aliens and superheroes.

 

Being intrigued by the source of these very complex and detailed delusions, Peter had made a concerted effort to get to know his patient better. Being nearly the same age actually helped them to connect better and over time, Peter found that his interest in Sam was extending outside of their clinical doctor-patient relationship.

 

That was when Peter realised just how screwed he was: he wasn’t just getting emotionally involved with the patient anymore. No, he was slowly becoming romantically involved as well.

 

* * *

 

 

“Come in.”

 

Peter hears the door open and feet shuffling in but he continues to read the reports in front of him. It’s only when he’s suddenly aware of the peculiar silence in the room that he glances up from the file and does a double take at what he sees.

 

Sam Alexander is seated in the chair as usual, but he is looking down at his lap and his pretty green eyes are overflowing, cutting streams of shiny tears down his tanned cheeks. Gesturing for the orderly to give them some privacy, Peter quickly moves around his desk and crouches, trying to make eye contact with his patient.

 

“Sam? What’s wrong?” Peter’s voice fills with genuine concern and his heart wrenches at the completely devastated look on Sam’s face. He waits patiently for a moment as Sam struggles to stop crying.

 

“… Doctor?” he silently croaks after swallowing a sob. Peter’s throat constricts as he realises that this is the first time that Sam has called him by his actual title. Which means that Sam has finally also realised what he really is: a mental patient in an asylum, not an invincible space-faring teenaged superhero.

 

“Yes, Sam?”

 

Another moment of silence as Sam struggles to calm himself before speaking again.

 

“… … N-None of it w-was r-real. None of it was ever real…”

 

“What was?” Peter asks gingerly. Though he hates to, he feels the need to clarify what the other is referring to.

 

“Nova. The Guardians. The Chitauri. Everything… Everything I thought I was. None of it was ever real.”

 

“No, Sam,” Peter says apologetically, though he refrains from verbally apologising. Sam does not need to be patronised any further.

 

“I-I thought I was a hero. I thought I could be anything I wanted to be… … I thought my life had some greater meaning than this… this… whatever this is…”

 

“Sam. Your life does have meaning!” Peter quickly cuts in reassuringly, placing his hands on the patient’s shoulders soothingly. “And now that you know what’s real and what’s not, it means you are getting better, Sam.”

 

“I’m… … getting better?” Sam asks in bewilderment, his voice still quivering and his tears still flowing.

 

“You’re getting better.”

 

Peter wishes he could believe that, which is extremely difficult as he watches the broken boy fall apart right in front of him. The boy who realised what he never was, and what he could never be.

 

* * *

 

 

Peter wonders when he first became aware of his feelings for his patient.

 

He had been lying in bed, trying to fall asleep but found himself trying to imagine the fantasy world in which Sam lived instead. Flying through New York at hypersonic speeds, fighting superpowered criminals, defending the Earth against extra-terrestrial invasion; Definitely more exciting than Peter’s reality.

 

After graduating from medical school three years ago, Peter got a job at Midtown General Hospital, where he had previously interned. He had been excited at first, at the prospect of getting to work on interesting cases at the hospital’s prestigious SHIELD Mental Institute. But slowly, his life faded into a dreary routine in which he worked more than ten hours a day including Saturdays, only to return to his lonely apartment late at night just to use the bed. Sundays were spent catching up on sleep or reviewing patient files and he hardly had any time for a social life or recreation. All of his patients were depressing, and Peter could not help but feel that their condition was rubbing off on him. They complained about the meaninglessness of their existence and the futility of life; All Peter could do for them was to prescribe more medication.

 

It was because of this that Peter became fascinated with that patient Sam Alexander. Sam’s bubbly disposition was a breath of fresh air which contrasted sharply with the hospital’s drab atmosphere, with its drab inmates and Peter’s drab life. Strangely enough, Sam seemed to quickly take an interest in Peter too and his colourful imagination slowly began to include Peter in its stories.

 

Though Peter was only supposed to have sessions with Sam once a month as his condition was not critical; he managed to switch his work schedule around to reduce that interval to two weeks, so that he could spend more time with his favourite patient. As a result, Peter became a frequently recurring character in Sam’s deluded anecdotes, becoming imagined as a superhero just like Sam thought himself to be. Peter found it especially peculiar how Sam seemed to draw a connection between his psychiatrist and spiders, though it might have something to do with the musty conditions of his office.

 

And though he really was not supposed to indulge or partake in the patient’s hallucinations, Peter often played along in their sessions, just so that he could see Sam smile and get to know the young man better. After all, Sam certainly seemed to have a much more interesting and meaningful existence than Peter, even if it wasn’t real.

 

Ultimately, who was he to judge what was real and what wasn’t? If it made Sam happy and numb to the painful realities listed on his records, did it really matter anymore if what he thought was real wasn’t?

 

* * *

 

 

“Hello, Mr. Alexander. How are you today?” Peter asks clinically to suppress his rising concern the moment he lays eyes on his patient. The other man plops gloomily into his seat, refusing to make eye contact with the doctor.

 

“... Umm...  ... Fine... I guess...”

 

“Anything interesting happen these past two weeks?”

 

“Nothing's interesting, Doc,” Sam mutters sadly. “Every day, I only wake up so I can take the pills. But I just can't stop thinking about... about...”

 

Green eyes squeeze shut as tears overflow at their edges.

 

“Hey, hey, it's alright.” Peter hurries over to Sam. Eschewing all professional protocol, he pulls the other into his arms. Instead of resisting, the patient sobs loudly into his shoulder, creating a large wet patch on his white coat. Hesitantly, Peter pats the back of Sam's head reassuringly. His short hair is slightly greasy and he smells, but Peter can't bring himself to care as his heart is breaking too.

 

_No motivation to do anything_ , the progress report on Sam had said. _Eats minimally. Declines to take showers or perform any other non-essential functions. Refuses to participate in any recreational activities or interact with other patients._

 

Peter had refused to believe the report until now. It seemed so uncharacteristic of Sam, who never seemed down except during their last session.

 

“Sam, you need to try not to focus on the past and what has happened,” Peter says gently. “Have you tried doing something else? Like reading a book or picking up a hobby?”

 

“I really don’t feel like doing anything, doc,” Sam whispers hoarsely. “There’s nothing interesting in this world. Everything is just so sad and painful. And reality doesn’t get any better no matter how many distractions there are.”

 

Peter wants to say something about imagining a better future but he cuts himself off. What use is that, if Sam is finally free from the happy world he had imagined?

 

The psychiatrist finds himself at a total loss for words, as he continues to rub soothing circles in his patient’s back. And though a part of him feels happy to have such intimate contact with the object of his obsessions, most of him is breaking apart as Sam continues to break down in his embrace.

 

Peter knows what he definitely shouldn’t do, but what he must. And that it should be done as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

 

Midtown General Hospital is housed in a twenty-five storey tower, with the general wards taking up the bottom fifteen floors of the building. Above these is the SHIELD Mental Institute, a specialised clinic which is actually more of a state-funded asylum. The top floor of the building is where the Hospital Director’s office is located and that is where Peter now finds himself, having been summoned by the big man himself.

 

“Doctor Parker,” the Director’s personal assistant acknowledges as Peter approaches his desk. “Director Fury is waiting. Please go in.”

 

“Thanks, Phil,” Peter mutters, doing his best to swallow his nervousness as he knocks once on the wood-panelled double doors before pushing his way in apprehensively.

 

“Good afternoon, Director.”

 

The tall and broad man is sitting at his large work desk and frowning at a file before him. His frown only deepens into a scowl as he takes note of the timid doctor standing before him.

 

“Come here, Parker,” he says in a measured tone and Peter knows it’s bad if his boss has chosen not to address him by his title or offer him a seat. With no other choice, Peter approaches with more than a little trepidation.

 

“I’m going to get straight to the point. I have reports here, regarding this patient of yours named Samuel Alexander.” Nick Fury is eyeing his employee like a hawk, watching for any reaction to the name. Peter can barely breathe. “According to these reports, you terminated the patient’s previous prescription around two months ago. You then prescribed a placebo instead, causing the patient to relapse into a hallucinatory state.”

 

“Sir, I can explain,” Peter cuts in nervously.

 

“Please do,” the Director says, with some of the anger control in his voice slipping.

 

“As you can see from his file, Sam has severe clinical depression which is only mitigated by his equally severe hallucinations,” Peter starts and Fury’s face does not change. “The medication which was previously administered helped to suppress the hallucinations, but it only sent the patient into a deeper depressive state. I thus decided that this was not good for the patient’s overall well-being.”

 

“YOU DECIDED?!” Fury explodes, jumping to his feet which makes Peter cringe and take two steps back. “Who are you to make that decision?! What legal basis gives you the right to decide?!”

 

“Sir, I—”

 

“You, Doctor Parker, are merely a consultant employed by this hospital! You have no right to make such a judgemental call without the input of the patient’s next-of-kin or the hospital board!”

 

“Director Fury, Sam has no next-of-kin. And the—”

 

“I DON’T CARE, PARKER!” Fury bellows and Peter inadvertently takes another three steps back before forcing himself to take one forward. “This is a clear breach of medical professionalism and the terms of your employment!”

 

“Sir, please…”

 

“No, Parker,” Fury seethes as he drops back into his chair. “Because you have violated both of these rules, the hospital board has already decided to terminate your contract with immediate effect.”

 

Peters eyes grow impossibly wide at what he’s hearing. _Fired? For trying to help Sam?_

 

“Sir, please give me a chance,” the ex-doctor begins desperately. “I—”

 

“I’m sorry, Peter,” Fury’s tone softens and though his shoulders remain rigid and his eyes hard, Peter almost detects a glint of remorse in them. “But the hospital board is adamant about this. They already carried out an investigation and have made up their minds. As of today, your services are no longer required. Please pack up your things and return your staff pass to HR by 5pm.”

 

Peter can only stare at the floor in utter disbelief. Through the numbness of his shock, only one thing echoes in his mind, the same thing that has been echoing in his mind for the past year: Sam.

 

With his retrenchment, Peter can never see Sam again. Sam’s case will be taken up by another psychiatrist, who will force Sam out of his fantasy world and into this cruel reality which would do nothing but hurt and damage him even more.

 

Sam will never be the same again. Peter will never see Sam again.

 

_Sam._

 

With only that one person in mind, Peter quickly spins on his heel without another word and dashes out of the Director’s office. He knows what he needs to do, and that it must be done immediately.

 

* * *

 

 

“Hey, Webs. Here to bust me out of the Tricarrier?” Sam smirks cheekily as the door of his cell swings open to reveal the dishevelled doctor, panting heavily and messy brown hair askew.

 

“Yeah,” Peter gasps, hands on his knees from his sprint to the cell. As he is still holding on to his staff pass, he still possesses the authorisation to enter patients’ rooms. “Come on, Nova. We’ve gotta go now.”

 

“Emergency mission?” Sam inquires curiously with a raised eyebrow, but he is already jumping to his feet to follow Peter out.

 

“Yep. This one’s a secret mission, though. So we can’t let SHIELD or Fury know,” Peter says urgently as he begins leading Sam down the winding corridors of the asylum ward.

 

“Right. I gotcha,” Sam perks up excitedly and Peter even notices the extra spring in his step. Before either of them can say anything else though, a blaring alarm sounds throughout the building and red lights on the wall begin flashing; The universal signal for a security breach alert.

 

“Quick! We need to get out of here!” Peter yells desperately and he tugs on Sam’s hand to pull him along. However, security guards and orderlies begin filling up the end of the corridor leading to the elevator and Peter knows their escape is sealed.

 

“Follow me, Webs. I know another way,” Sam shouts and he pulls Peter in another direction, down another series of corridors. With no other plan in mind, Peter blindly follows.

 

“Where are we going?” Peter yells above the alarm, unable to stem his rising panic but Sam seems calm.

 

“This way! The other SHIELD agents normally take this other route,” Sam replies confidently and Peter realises that Sam is leading him to the fire escape staircase. As security is just around the corner and closing in on them fast, they hurl themselves through the door with no other choice. Once they’re at the landing however, the sound of thundering footsteps from below catches both their attentions and the only way to go is up. So they dash up three storeys, taking the steps two at a time before bursting out on the twenty-first floor to catch their breaths.

 

There is no time to waste however, as the alarm on this floor is also ringing and the footsteps chasing them up the stairs are getting louder. Next to the staircase is a glass sliding door which leads to an outdoor balcony where staff usually take their smoking breaks. Sam runs over and yanks the door open and Peter follows. Strangely enough, there is a lock on the outside of the door and Peter quickly latches it shut to buy them some time.

 

Within a couple of minutes though, the security guards arrive and they begin pounding on the glass door. Turning his back to his pursuers, Peter catches sight of Sam perched on the ledge of the balcony beyond the railing; the only part of the veranda where they cannot be seen from inside the building due to the parapet obscuring them from view. With only a little hesitation, Peter clambers over the railing and joins Sam who is beaming at him. The shouts and banging on the door grow steadily louder and Peter knows it’s only a matter of time before security finds the correct key to unlock the door from the inside.

 

“What now, Sam?” Peter asks desperately, peering fearfully over the edge to the small hospital garden twenty-one storeys below.

 

“What, Web Head, have you lost your mind? Or have you forgotten that I’m Nova?” Sam replies with a wide shit-eating grin. “Come on, I can fly us out of here. And then we’ll be free!”

 

_Free._

 

“Come on, Pete. Don’t you wanna be free?”

 

_Free._

 

Freedom is something Peter has thought a lot about, lately. He thinks of his current life, how he has longed to be free from the soulless tedium of hours spent at work, from the lonely nights at home, to be free from the mind-numbing monotony of it all. How painfully dull it has all been.

 

And he thinks about Sam, has been thinking about Sam. How his desire for freedom has always been manifested in his fantasies of flying through endless galaxies, of being a fearless superhero fighting against the forces of evil. Peter thinks about how Sam is a free spirit, always longing to be freed.

 

Peter thinks of him and Sam, and realises that all they’ve both ever wanted was to be free from everything. All Peter has ever wanted was to be free with Sam.

 

“Hey, don’t you trust me, Webs?” Sam places his hands on Peter’s shoulders, turning Peter to face him and looking seriously into his eyes. “I love you, you know. I’m not gonna let you fall, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

 

A sharp clarity cuts into the haze of Peter’s mind with that confession. All of his inner turmoil melts away and resolves into a warm, all-consuming affection. And suddenly, he knows without a doubt what his obvious response will be. “I love you too, Bucket Head. Of course I know you won’t let me go.”

 

Gazing deeply into the emotional depths of Sam’s forest-green eyes, Peter can feel his heart soar unchained and free. A shy smile breaks out across Peter’s face and he slowly takes a deep breath, closing his eyes.

 

“I love you too, Nova,” he repeats as he savours the warmth of Sam’s arms encircling his waist from behind. Leaning back into that strong chest, he whispers, “Come on, let’s get us out of here.”

 

Sam’s playful laugh sends delightful shivers down his spine and all at once, they’re both careening off the edge into the great unknown.

 

“To infinity…!” Sam fearless yell echoes in his ear, and he relishes the sensation of infinite space which the wind racing past his face creates.

 

“… and beyond…!” is the last thing Peter hears as the ground, and his life, and everything that he struggled against rushes up to meet them.


End file.
